


I Have Two, Now

by Gwynnia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 21:04:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4277862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gwynnia/pseuds/Gwynnia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s December 26th, and as is traditional Scott and Stiles are celebrating their personal Christmas together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Have Two, Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Firequill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firequill/gifts).



“Scott?”

“Yeah?” Scott replies distractedly from the kitchen. He’s eyeing a pair of mugs, trying to decide if there’s any way to get more whipped cream on the hot chocolate without it spilling disastrously over the sides. Maybe if he adds just a bit to the one on the left, he can get away with it. On the other hand, if he leaves things as they are there might be room for chocolate shavings and crushed candy canes.

It’s December 26th, and as is traditional Scott and Stiles are celebrating their personal Christmas together. Both Scott’s mom and the sheriff are always busy the day after Christmas cleaning up after the messes people get into during their festivities, and for years Scott and Stiles have taken the chance to have an over-the-top celebration of their own without parental interference. Melissa McCall’s only contribution to the event was the pot of decadent chocolate, milk, and peppermint she’d left simmering on the stove that was now occupying most of her son’s attention.

“I know you’re the one with super werewolf hearing and all, buddy, but I could swear my present just squeaked.”

Scott grins, putting the can of whipped cream down with a decisive clack on the counter and reaching for the candy canes. “You must be imagining things.”

“No, that was definitely a squeak, and – oh my god, is it _moving_?”

Scott carefully picks up the hot chocolate and walks toward the living room, where Stiles is staring in growing consternation at a package under the tree. He barely notices when Scott shoves a mug into his hand, taking an absentminded swig and ending up with whipped cream all over his nose. As soon as the taste hits him he looks up at Scott with a grin. Not even the deliciousness of Melissa’s hot chocolate can distract him for long from unexpectedly animate packages though. He goes back to staring, oblivious to the whipped cream still adorning his face.

“Do you think someone cursed it?” he muses, ignoring Scott’s hand reaching out to wipe his nose. “I mean, holiday shopping must be as stressful for witches as it is for everyone else. You didn’t snag this out from under the nose of anyone suspicious, did you?”

“It’s not cursed,” Scott replies in an amused tone.

“Are you sure? Because there’s gotta be some tests we can run…”

“ _Stiles_.” Scott shakes his head as Stiles turns around to look at him and plucks the hot chocolate back out of his friend’s hand, ignoring the noise of protest this gets him. “Just open it. I promise it’s not cursed.”

Stiles glares at him for a moment longer, though whether out of further suspicion or indignation at the theft of his beverage Scott can’t quite tell. Another squeak from under the tree refocuses his attention. Scott has to bite his lip not to laugh at the overblown caution with which Stiles approaches his present.

“Don’t shake it,” he warns, taking a sip from a mug. He’s pretty sure it’s his, but does it really matter? He could easily hear what Stiles mutters under his breath in reply, but he chooses not to, focusing instead on the sounds inside the package. The heartbeat stays relatively steady as Stiles slides the package toward him and undoes the wrapping paper, then takes a wild leap of excitement as he removes the lid of the box and the puppy jumps out at him and starts trying to lick his face.

Scott has to put the hot chocolate down. He’s laughing too hard at Stiles’ flailing to trust himself not to spill it, werewolf reflexes notwithstanding. Eventually Stiles manages to pin the puppy in his lap with one hand so he can gesture incredulously at Scott with the other.

“You got me a _puppy_?” Scott nods, still chuckling. Stiles looks down at the wriggling bundle in his lap, then back up at Scott. “You realize my dad is going to kill me.”

“Nope,” Scott replies smugly, “he’s going to kill _me_. He can’t get mad at you. It’s a gift. So he’ll be mad at the gift giver, not the gift receiver.”

Stiles squints up at him. “Ok, there’s no way you came up with that on your own, it’s far too underhanded. Does Lydia know about this?”

“Lydia knows nothing,” Scott counters. Actually, he overheard a woman at the clinic talking about the kitten she was planning on getting for her niece without telling her sister first, but Stiles doesn’t need to know that.

Any retort Stiles might have been planning is interrupted when the puppy makes another spirited attempt to get to his face. He picks it up in both hands, bringing their noses level while leaving enough distance between them to avoid kisses. “So… what kind of dog is he?”

“She,” Scott says, picking up one of the hot chocolate mugs at random before sitting near Stiles on the floor. “Deaton says she’s got some spaniel in her, based on the shape of the ears, but he wasn’t sure about the rest. Some sort of terrier, maybe.”

“Owners didn’t know who the father was?” Stiles jokes.

Scott has to suppress a growl. His voice is still a little gravelly when he says “We didn’t know who the owners were. Someone left her tied outside the clinic. In the rain.”

“Oh.” Stiles looks at her for a moment. “And you’re sure there’s nothing –”

“She’s just a dog,” Scott cuts in. “We checked.” Stiles acknowledges this with a little tilt of his head, but doesn’t apologize for his paranoia.

“No tags,” he observes.

“Nah. They’re paid for, but I figured you’d want to name her.” He watches as Stiles studies the puppy seriously. She’s mostly a creamy white, but her soft ears are a chocolatey brown. Stiles seems totally unaware of the small, whippy tail trying to beat his arm to death as the puppy continues to try to wiggle toward his face. Scott’s not sure he’s ever seen him this still before. It’s like the puppy is embodying all of Stiles’ normal fidgets. This just makes it all the more startling when Stiles’ head whips in his direction, bearing the beginnings of a smug grin.

“Leia,” he declares.

“… ok?” Scott says. He’s not sure what about the name warrants the look on Stiles’ face.

“Oh come on!” Stiles exclaims, putting the puppy back in his lap to point accusingly at Scott. “Even you should get that one. You know? Princess Leia? White dress, cinnamon buns for hair?” He gestures at his own head in a strange curling motion, then picks up Leia’s brown ears from the side of her head and waves them toward Scott as if he expects this to illustrate his point.

Scott vaguely recalls a woman meeting Stiles’ description from one of his friend’s numerous attempts to goad him into watching Star Wars, but he isn’t about to give Stiles the satisfaction. Instead he shrugs, drains the rest of his hot chocolate, and holds out his hand.

“Want me to hold her for a bit? Your chocolate’s gonna get cold.”

“Why am I even friends with you?” Stiles asks, but he hands Leia over as he gets up to retrieve the remaining mug. Scott plops her in his lap, where she immediately braces her paws on his chest and goes for his chin.

“Well that’s going to have to be the first rule,” Stiles says from behind him. “No kisses.” He flops onto the couch, mug in hand. “Seriously though, how am I going to tell my dad I have two puppies now?”

“Two?” Scott inquires, tilting his head back so he can talk without getting puppy slobber in his mouth. Stiles just looks at him with a raised eyebrow until he gets it. “Awww, dude, not cool,” he whines.

“See? You’ve got the soulful begging down and everything,” Stiles says in satisfaction. He swipes some whipped cream off the top of his mug and sticks it in his mouth. “But really, what am I going to tell him?”

Scott thinks about letting him suffer in retaliation for the puppy comment, but instead says “Dude, did you really think I’d give you a puppy without checking first? It’s fine.”

Stiles grunts and drinks more hot chocolate. Scott can’t read his expression, and any clues he might get from his scent are drowned out under peppermint and pine. He’s suddenly worried. When he and Deaton had found the puppy, wet and miserable on the clinic doorstep, it had seemed like the perfect solution. He’d already known his mom would never let him have her. That had been established practically as soon as he’d started working for the vet. But he’d thought he might be able to convince the Sheriff, and this had eventually proven to be the case, though it hadn’t exactly been easy. Still, even when he was trying to figure out what arguments to use, it had never once occurred to him that Stiles wouldn’t want the puppy. Now he wonders.

“I’ll help out,” he says, trying not to let his nervousness creep into his voice. “I already told your dad I’d get food for her for the first six months. I should mostly be able to get it through the clinic, we get a lot of free samples of different brands. And I can take her for walks sometimes, if you’re busy. Oh, and I’ve got a bed, and toys and stuff. I just didn’t want to wrap all of them. They’re upstairs.” He trails off, looking down at Leia instead of Stiles. She takes the opportunity to lick him properly on the mouth, and he lets her a few times. He’s just about to push her back down when she’s plucked from his lap.

“Honestly, what part of ‘No Kisses’ was so hard to understand? You’re teaching her terrible habits.” Stiles sets her next to him as he sits back down on the couch, where she runs the length of the cushions twice before climbing into his lap and falling asleep. “Just because you can’t teach your pack any manners,” he adds. Scott, who has been watching this hopefully, snorts. “Now go get me some more hot chocolate. These Christmas movies aren’t going to make fun of themselves.”

“Who am I supposed to be teaching manners?” Scott asks. But he grabs their mugs and heads to the kitchen. Pausing in the doorway on his way back, he sees Stiles’ hand nestled in the ruff of Leia’s neck, scratching gently behind her ears with a soft look on his face. He stands there for a moment, listening to their calm heartbeats, before walking over to set the drinks down on the table.

“Which first, do you think? Rudolph, or Frosty?” Stiles looks at him as though he’s lost his mind.

“Frosty. Unless you _want_ me torturing you for days because we watched it last and I can’t get that stupid thumpity-thump-thump song out of my head?”

Scott sticks the DVD in and drops down on the couch next to Stiles, bumping his shoulder. Leia scrabbles in her sleep for a moment, and when she settles again one leg is sticking out so that she’s partially draped over Scott, too. They’re quiet as the anti-piracy warnings flash on the screen. Scott’s pretty sure by now that Stiles is pleased about Leia, but he can’t help glancing over at him anyways, and is not reassured by the brooding look on his face. He’s wondering if there’s something he should say when Stiles bursts.

“So, when you say the clinic gets food samples, what are we talking here? They’re not using you to test new formulas, are they? Because I’m not going to all that effort to get my dad to actually eat real food just to feed my dog crap, and really I’d like to do some research before giving her any of them. I mean, who knows what they’re putting in dog food these days…”

Scott smiles, letting the flow of Stiles’ monologue mingle with the opening strains of Jimmy Durante’s voice. He relaxes back against the couch, and by the time Stiles has finished with the topic of suitable puppy food and moved on to mocking Professor Hinkle’s moustache they are leaning shoulder to shoulder, hot chocolates in their hands and Leia snuffling softly between them.


End file.
